To Be Loved
by xgravitational
Summary: "To love is to destroy, and to be loved is to be destroyed." AU City of Lost Souls. Some very dark themes in later chapters.
1. Waking Up

I do not own The Mortal Instruments or the Characters.

They are all property of Cassandra Clare.

All that I take credit for is the twist in the storyline and any original characters that may pop up.

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**How can you tell me that you're scared to jump**  
**When you dove head first down the well for luck**  
**And I saved you when you got stuck**  
**You're not as scared with the people you love**

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_The antique metal stairs groaned under Clary's feet as she made her way up the slender spiral staircase that lead to the Green House that rested atop the roof of the Institute. For nearly a month Clarissa had been a guest of the Lightwoods – the ones in charge of the New York Institute, despite their absence the entire time that Clary had been residing within the protective walls – and in that time she had still yet to see every room of the large building. She had spent countless hours inside the large, beautiful library with Hodge and Jace; she had scurried about the kitchen in the early hours of the morning and still of the night with the boys in attempts to avoid Isabelle's cooking; she had been introduced to the training and weapons rooms, as well as Izzy and Jace's bedrooms while wandering about. Still, there were dozens of rooms that she had yet to investigate. Tonight, however, Jace was crossing one of the rooms off of her list. Pushing open the heavy door that brought them to the rooftop patio, Clary's pink lips parted with amazement as she took in her surroundings. _

_The first thing that hit her was the smell. _

_The moment that the door had been opened, Clary had been caressed by the sweetest scent that had ever filled her nostrils. The rich, dark smell of earthy fertilizer and the stronger, perfume of night-blooming flowers. The green house that covered the rooftop of the Institute was nothing like Clarissa had ever seen. Large glass windows made up the walls of the green house, all tinted the slightest shade of green. Through the walls of the enclosure, she could see the lights of Manhattan as they burned like embers. _

_Much like everything else within the institute, the design was immaculate. Everything from the color scheme of the plants to the ceilings arch was perfect. Clary was only the smallest bit aware of the soft chuckle that vibrated from Jace's chest, through their connected hands, and up her arm as her green eyes flitted over the scene before her. Even in the dead of night, only a few moments before midnight, there was a variety of flowers in full bloom. _

_"Wow," She breathed, turning slowly as she took it all in. "It's so beautiful here at night."_

_Jace grinned, his golden eyes glowing even in the dim light as he reached out and plucked a strange but beautiful star-shaped flower from a bush before tucking it carefully into the palm of my hand. "And we have it all to ourselves. Alec and Isabelle hate it up here. They have allergies." _

_Clary couldn't help but laugh as she examined the flower in her hands as Jace moved to remove the contents of his bag and intricately arranged them on the span of tiled floor between them: apples, a bar of fruit and nut chocolate, and a bottle of water. _

_"Which is good," he continued, sitting two napkin-covered sandwiches in the cleared off spot, "because I didn't make enough cheese sandwiches for a party." Clary tossed him a slightly confused look as he placed one of the sandwiches on her bare knee. "Well, it's not a birthday cake, but hopefully it's better than nothing." _

_"Nothing is what I was expecting, so thank you." She said, taking a bite of one of the apple section. It was cold as the tang of the green apple washed over her taste buds. _

_"Nobody should get nothing on their birthday," He said, tossing her a look that she would have given anything to know the reason behind. Jace opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, only for something to catch his eye. She could practically see the words dissolving from his train of thought as the corner of his lips pulled up into a small smile as he pointed to a bush a few feet away, "Watch." _

_Turning in the direction to which his gaze was fixed, Clary turned her attention to the green shrub that was speckled with slender, silvery buds. "Wait for it," Her breathed, sending a shiver through her body as his breath washed over her shoulder. Very slowly, the tightly closed buds began to quiver and tremble. They swelled to twice their size before finally bursting open – the delicate green sepals opening outwards, releasing the clustered petals inside. _

_"Oh!" She gasped, looking up to find Jace's golden eyes trained on her. "Do they bloom every night?" She asked, swallowing back to chills that had begun to caress her along with his eyes._

_"Only at midnight," He said, his face tilting down to hers and his hold on her eyes never breaking. "Happy birthday, Clarissa Fray." _

_Then, as gently as the light breeze dusted pollen across the petals of the midnight flowers, Jace's warm lips pressed to hers. Her eyes slowly fluttered closed, the sweet taste of him overwhelming her senses. Suddenly, it wasn't the fragrance of the flowers surrounding her any longer, but the smell of Jace's soap that filled her nostrils; it wasn't the tangy sweetness of the apple that coated her taste buds, but the taste of his breath that subdued her hunger. _

_Despite her surprise, Clary felt that as if she had been waiting for that moment – that kiss – her entire life. Somewhere, deep, deep inside her subconscious, she knew that this was not what she should be doing. _

_She should be inside the Institute with Simon and the others, working on some plan to find her mother. _

_She should be asleep, and comforting her once-again-human best friend who was probably traumatized after being transformed into a rat and nearly killed by vampires. _

_She shouldn't be on the roof top, the amazingly beautiful and romantic rooftop, with this desperately handsome boy. He shouldn't be kissing her. No matter how uncharacteristically sweet he was being or how she felt when he was around her. And she definitely shouldn't be kissing him back. _

_But she was._

Clary could feel Jace's warm caress on her cheek; she could smell his natural, intoxicating scent and could hear his musical voice murmuring in her ear. Every night since Clary had left Jace on the rooftop of the demon-blood splattered hotel, she had dreamt about him. Usually, she had nightmares. Visions of him being mauled by hell hounds or his eyes - dark and lifeless – as they had been the night by Lake Lyn when Valentine had shoved the Mortal Sword through his chest clouded her memories.

Every night, Jace was with her.

Every night felt so real that, when she finally awoke, it took her minutes to convince herself that it had only been a dream.

But something about tonight was different.

Clary knew she had been dreaming. The moment that Jace's lips had pressed to hers, she had felt the pull of consciousness that slowly forced her from her slumber as it did every night. Yet she could still feel his touch against her skin. She was still very much aware of his body near hers.

Clary felt the pang of her heart echo throughout her entire frame as she opened her eyes only to find familiar golden orbs staring back at her. She gasped, fighting back a mixture of fear and relief as she pushed herself into a sitting position against her headboard. **_Wake up, Clary,_** She scolded herself mentally, **_This is cruel. Don't do this to yourself. Wake up!_** "Jace?" She finally managed to squeak, her voice a barely audible whisper.

"I'm here," His voice was rough, as if he hadn't spoken for a long time, but his eyes – those eyes that stared into her soul – they were the same. Slowly, as if worried he might frighten her away, Jace moved the slightest bit closer to where she sat plastered against the headboard. "I'm here, Clary, and I'm not going to leave. Not without you."

It was then that he paused, as if trying to reword and rearrange his thoughts. He looked breathless, as if he'd run for miles, as he opened his mouth to speak again, only to quickly lose all courage to.

Jace Wayland was speechless.

This had to be a dream.

Clary watched through sleep and tear filled eyes as a wide range of emotions played across his magnificent features. Never had she witnessed anything quite like this. Jace was always the one to keep a calm mask firmly in place and to never allow anyone to see him so vulnerable. Yet, here he was: sitting on the edge of her small bed and looking at her as if she were the air that he'd so desperately needed.

"I need you," He finally began, his large hands fisting in his mess of golden hair before dropping to pull her hands into his. "I love you, You know that, don't you?"

Clary was very much aware of her heart as it constricted within the confines of her chest as if it wanted to escape. Out of habit, she closed her eyes and shook her head, her auburn hair falling around her face in a fiery curtain. More than once had she awoke from a dream and felt Jace's presence since he'd disappeared. Each time had felt so real, only to have him torn away from her the second that she dared to blink.

A moment later, her wide, emerald eyes slowly fluttered open as his strong arms pulled her trembling body against his and his hand slowly smoothed over her back. His hands were as they had always been – warm, comforting; his arms just as strong as they had ever been; his heartbeat steady as it pounded against his chest and vibrated through their touch to caress her own.

She couldn't be dreaming, could she?

Her mind couldn't possibly betray her so flawlessly. Though it seemed that her heart and mind were on two vastly different sides most of the time, she couldn't believe that her mind would torture her heart in such a way. Her eyes gradually focused as the smallest of tears danced its way down her rose-colored cheeks and dampened his shirt.

Once again, Clary's heart threatened to give under the intense pressure. She could practically feel it shudder in defeat as he pulled back enough so that they were face to face once again.

"Jace," She finally managed, the war inside of her raging at full force as she finally accepted the fact that Jace was real.

This was not a dream.

She was very much awake and he was very much alive.

Instantly, relief flooded her and took complete control over her actions. Clary wound her arms around his torso and pulled their bodies together once more, hugging him as if he would disappear if she were to loosen her grip. Tucking her head under his chin, she pressed her face into the crook of his neck and breathed him in. "It's really you." She whimpered, her tears staining the fabric of his t-shirt. "I was so scared, Jace. I was so scared I'd never see you again."

He shook his head before letting out a small, barely audible whisper into her hair. "I'd always come back for you, Clary. Always."

Using the back of her hand to wipe the salty moisture from her slightly flushed cheeks, Clary leaned back a bit to allow her eyes to roam him quickly for any sign of injury. She absentmindedly slipped her fingers around his wrist, testing the strength of his pulse, as she made sure that all of his fingers were accounted for.

He was perfect. Not even a single golden hair seemed to be out of his usual just-out-of-bed-styled head.

Pursing her lips, suspicion began to creep up to replace her relief of moments ago. "I saw you, in the institute," She said, her voice a gravelly combination of tiredness and crying. "I saw you and Sebasti-," She stalled slightly, correcting herself "I saw you and Jonathan. How'd you get away?"

"I,- Uh. I wasn't being held prisoner, Clary," he said as his eyes flitted from hers and down to where his hands and taken hold of hers once more.

Once again, Clary felt that awful wrench within herself telling her that something was terribly wrong.

_I wasn't being held prisoner._

Five little words were all that it had taken to completely shatter Clary's small sense of relief.

What did he mean he wasn't being held prisoner?

Sebastian had been holding Jace against his will.

He had to have been.

Otherwise, there was no way that Jace would have taken off the way he had on the roof, there wasn't the slightest possibility that he would have just left her without a single word.

No, Jace wouldn't have put her through that worry, pain, and heartache.

He couldn't stand to be apart from her any less than she could stand to be away from him.

He hated Sebastian.

He loved the lightwoods.

He loved her.

He wouldn't betray them all like that.

Would he?

Jace was good. He was strong, and magnificent, and beautiful. He was brilliant, and cunning, and funny. He was passionate and driven and fearless. Jace was a million things, none of which were easily manipulated or weak. Jace was a Shadow Hunter to his core. He would rather die himself than side with Sebastian and put Alec, Izzy, and herself in danger.

He did love them.

He did love her.

At least, the Jace that she knew did.

It was then that her eyes flicked to his chest – the place just above his heart where Lilith's rune had been – and wondered if he was, indeed, her Jace. Lifting her hand to his chest, Clary pressed the palm of her hand to his chest. Feeling the slightly raised skin of the now-unharmed rune beneath his shirt, she felt herself twinge inwardly.

Clarissa could feel her body trembling, his hands on her causing her skin to prickle under the new uncertainty that plagued her mind with his confession. A new wave of anguish was beginning to seep into her bones, her body practically sagging in defeat.

Jace was the strongest person that she knew. If he had joined her brother, if Lilith's rune was still intact, what hope was there?

Her usually vibrant eyes dimmed as the war that was taking place within her began to take toll on her and she just barely heard the words that Jace was quickly saying to her.

"But that's beside the point. I'm here, because I know that it isn't fair to keep you away. I was being selfish to not come for you sooner, but I know I'm being more selfish to ask you to come with me. But I don't care. I want you with me, Clary. I need you with me. And that's why I'm here to ask you to go with me. I will do anything that you ask of me, if you just go with me." He bent his head, so it rested against the crook of her neck before he muffled the last word in a plea against her salty-sweet skin. "_Please._"

Clary's eyes, which had previously been focused on her hand on his chest, had slowly roamed over his strong shoulders, up the slope of his neck, the strong line of his jaw, before finally meeting his familiar golden orbs. "You want me to go with you?" She asked, confusion coloring her worried expression. She shook her head; a million bad scenarios running through her mind. What did Sebastian want with Jace? Did he know where Jace was? That he was with her? What he was asking her? "Jace, do you have any idea how worried everyone has been? You need to go to the institute. They need to know that you're okay, what's going on. You can't be serious. "

It was obvious by the way that he threw himself into explaining himself that Jace had been prepared for her initial skepticism, but the hurt that flashed in his eyes nearly crippled her. Suddenly, a memory flashed before her eyes – a night in Alicante when Jace's normally brilliant and shining eyes had contained that same sort of lackluster. She had awoken to find him gone, leaving nothing but his ring and a note in his place.

She had memorized everything about the note, from its words, to each curve of the pen, to the weight of the paper. Even now, she could recite it perfectly in her mind:

_Clary,_

_Despite everything, I can't bear the thought of this ring being lost forever, any more then I can bear the thought of leaving you forever. And though I have no choice about the one, at least I can choose about the other. I'm leaving you our family ring because you have as much right to it as I do. I'm writing this watching the sun come up. You're asleep, dreams moving behind your restless eyelids._

_I wish I knew what you were thinking._

_I wish I could slip into your head and see the world the way you do._

_I wish I could see myself the way you do._

_But maybe I don't want to see that. Maybe it would make me feel even more than I already do that I'm perpetuating some kind of Great Lie on you, and I couldn't stand that. I belong to you. You could do anything you wanted with me and I would let you. You could ask anything of me and I'd break myself trying to make you happy. My heart tells me this is the best and greatest feeling I have ever had. But my mind knows the difference between wanting what you can't have and wanting what you shouldn't want._

_And I shouldn't want you._

_All night I've watched you sleeping, watched the moonlight come and go, casting its shadows across your face in black and white. I've never seen anything more beautiful. I think of the life we could have had if things were different, a life where this night is not a singular event, separate from everything else that's real, but every night. But things aren't different, and I can't look at you without feeling like I've tricked you into loving me._

_The truth no one is willing to say out loud is that no one has a shot against Valentine but me. I can get close to him like no one else can. I can pretend I want to join him and he'll believe me, up until that last moment where I end it all, one way or another. I have something of Sebastian's; I can track him to where my father's hiding, and that's what I'm going to do. So I lied to you last night. I said I just wanted one night with you. But I want every night with you. And that's why I have to slip out of your window now, like a coward._

_Because if I had to tell you this to your face, I couldn't make myself go._

_I don't blame you if you hate me, I wish you would._

_As long as I can still dream, I will dream of you. _

_- Jace._

"Please," Jace was repeating, his hands dropping hers only to slide upward to cup her face, forcing her from her memories. "_Please_, Clary. Sebastian-" he shook his head as he corrected himself, "Jonathan and I, we're bound together. He can hurt me without hurting himself and vice versa. He's not a danger to us. I would never let anyone hurt you. You have to know that."

There it was again. That look full of pleading and hope for understanding. That look that went straight to Clary's heart and treated it as if it were a punching bag. She would do anything to make that look go away, to bring back his warm and cocky grin.

Clary sniffed, her voice shaking ever so slightly with the tears that she was fighting tooth and nail. "O-of course." She managed, sucking in her lower lip before tracing the perfectly drawn rune on his chest with her fingertips. Jace would go through hell to keep her safe – he had on a few occasions – how could she abandon him now? "I'll go with you."

As soon as the words left Clary's mouth, she knew that she would grow to regret them. Jonathan was unpredictable and extremely lethal, and every part of her told her how bad of an idea it was to put herself in a situation where he was involved. But, how could she not when it was Jace asking her to do so.

_Her_ Jace. The Jace that had saved her life so many times - that she loved with her whole heart, and that loved her in return.

She couldn't lose him.

Not again.

"You will?" His golden features took on a confused expression, as if she'd caught him by surprise.

She nodded gently, her teeth gnawing at the inside of her cheek as she did so, and moved her eyes down to their intertwined hands. Her thumb traced over the slightly raised, pale scars of the runes that have long since healed. She could feel the eye-shaped symbol that was so much like her own – the one that all Shadow Hunter's possessed that allowed them to see past glamour's.

"I will," she promised, meeting his eyes once more and reading his expression, "Not what you were expecting?"

"Nothing is what I was expecting," He admitted, repeating almost exactly the words she'd spoken in her dream. He smirked as if he had read her mind and leaned forward, pressing his lips ever so gently to hers.

"Well, I hate to interrupt, but..."

Clary jumped and took in a quick gasp, her green eyes widening substantially as Jonathan seemed to appear out of thin air.

"If you were hoping to get out of here without giving mother dearest a fright, we need to leave before she wakes up." Sebastian's voice matched him entirely, all cold and calculated. He stood by her bedroom door, his back straight and his jaw tight. He was the picture of calm confidence.

Until Clary met his eyes.

His dark eyes, nearly completely black in the shadows of her dark bedroom, looked as if there was a war taking place within them – like he was torn between ripping the two of them apart and needing Jace to bring her along.

When neither Jace nor Clary replied or made a point to move, he raised a eyebrow and turned towards the door and placing his hand on the doorknob. "Or shall I go say hello?"

"No!" She gasped, jerking forward and into a standing position, nearly knocking Jace over in the process. "Stay away from my mother." Clary could hardly recognize her voice in that moment; it was so close to a growl.

Jonathan's grin only grew, it becoming more menacing with every second, "Whatever you say. Sister." He motioned to the open window as Jace rose to his feet as well. "After you."


	2. Golden

I do not own The Mortal Instruments or the Characters.  
They are all property of Cassandra Clare.  
All that I take credit for is the twist in the storyline and any original characters that may pop up.

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Authors Note: I am so touched by the amazing feedback I've been getting so far! This is only my second fic _ever_, so I'm amazed that it's being accepted so well, so far. 3 On a side note, I did re-upload this chapter after I noticed a TON of mistakes.

Unfortunately, I'm really bad about editing when I'm half asleep. I'll do better next time, I promise! :P

In the mean time, feel free to let me know if you see any big mistakes (I'm awful about slipping from third to first person. Especially when dialog is involved D:). And, I of course adore little notes and PM's :)

Anyways, there aren't any big changes to this chapter aside from some moved around commas and things like that, but I did add a tiny bit more to the ending.

Enjoy 3

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**_This is your life there's no way to run from it_**

**_The doubt in your brain or the pain in your stomach_**

**_I only have but one complaint at the moment:_**

**_Don't paint me black when I used to be golden_**

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Sleep was a frivolous and unattainable goal, apparently.

Every night, Clary lay down in the large, plush bedding. It was a magnificent bed with the kind of mattress that her body just sunk into, all of the extra down material filling in around her body and leaving her in the worlds most comfortable position, no matter how she turned. The sheets were like silk, cold and smooth against her skin, and smelled glorious.

Still, sleep eluded her.

With an exasperated huff, Clarissa untangled her limbs from the sheets before dropping her legs over the edge of the bed and pressed her feet to the cold hardwood floors. The room was extravagant, nearly the size of the entire apartment that she and her mother had occupied throughout her life. It was meticulous, everything in its spot and showing not the first bit of dust or trace that anyone had ever stepped foot within its walls before her.

However, aside from the large king-sized bed that was placed in the center of the room, there was very little to fill the large space. Only twin nightstands at either side of the bed, a grand desk, and an armoire decorated the room along with a small stack of books and what looked to be an antique jewelry box pressed into a corner.

Standing, she moved over the armoire and sifted through its drawers. Much like the room, every piece of clothing that she came across was extravagant. There were no simple jeans and t-shirts to be found, only the highest quality blouses, skirts, and dresses. Everything was, remarkably, her size. With a sigh, she fished out the closest thing to normal that she could: a dark green silk blouse and a pair of designer jeans that probably cost as much as a car.

It had been ten days since she had left Luke's house with Jace and Jonathan. It had been over a week since she'd seen, or spoken to, anyone that she loved. She hadn't been so far away from her mother for so long since Valentine had stolen her away, and the fact that she'd left without a word gnawed away at her constantly.

They had left so quickly. She hadn't been allowed to say goodbye or to leave a note telling them that she would be okay. She hadn't even had time to pack a bag or grab her toothbrush.

She had just crawled out of the small window, taken Jace's hand, and followed him into the unknown.

Swallowing, she made her way out of the door, through the heavy door, and down the stairs, following the sound of a conversation only to find Jace and Jonathan relaxing like old friends rather than sworn enemies.

"Hey," She breathed, her eyes ghosting over her brother's statuesque and all too relaxed form before settling on Jace.

Even with the alleviation that came with Jace's presence, an enormous weight remained on Clary's heart as her emerald eyes moved over the boy that she loved. Though he still looked like Jace – a mass of golden curls, topaz eyes, lean muscle, and impish smirk – he wasn't truly _her_ Jace.

The intricately drawn rune just over his heart that kept him tied to Jonathan made sure of that.

A million heartstrings tugged at Clary's core when Jace's entire face seemed to light up with her presence. Ever since they had first kissed in the atrium atop the institute, they had both taken on the habit of brightening when the other was around. They complemented each other perfectly, his golden features to her bronze. But here, he didn't seem to contain himself as much as he had before. There was no fear in his topaz eyes, no need to keep his feelings under check and his face concealed behind a well-constructed mask.

It had a strange affect on her heart to see him like that: a weird mixture of pride and worry.

How could he open up so much with Jonathan so close?

Didn't he understand how unstable her brother was?

He had tried to kill them both, for Gods sake.

"You look beautiful," he said, pulling her into his embrace without moving from his seat on a barstool.

An involuntary shiver ran through Clary's entire body as Jace's warm breath washed over the exposed skin of her neck. She was hyper aware of his eyes as they moved over her and of his hands that brushed against and warmed her skin while he tucked a rogue curl behind her ear with expert fingers.

Instantly, a crimson blush colored her cheeks and a shy smile painted across her features before she finally tore her eyes away from Jace only to find Jonathan watching them intently.

"You have to say that." She said, her throat barely releasing the words as the nearly crippling fear that came from being around her brother began to take hold of her. Instinctively, she leaned further into Jace, wishing that she could simply mold her body into his and no longer be the subject of Jonathan Morgenstern's attention.

"You're right," Jace spoke once more, his arms circled around her waist and he ducked his head so that he could place a light kiss to her shoulder, seemingly unfazed by the fathomless black eyes that were trained on them, "I _did_ have to say that," he agreed, "I literally couldn't resist."

Once again, a shock wave coursed through her veins in response to Jace Wayland and she rolled her shoulder slightly under his touch, earning a soft sigh from him, telling her that he finally sensed her discomfort.

His eyes turned upward then as if noticing Jonathan's dark presence for the first time, tightening his arm around her in a more territorial manner, before sliding from his chair and into a standing position.

This earned a soft chuckle form where Jonathan stood, apple in hand, at the other side of the kitchen island. "Did you sleep well, sister?" He asked, his voice dripping with honey.

Or poison.

She swallowed and straightened her posture slightly, forcing herself to meet his eyes without flinching. "Like a baby," she lied, unwilling to admit her nearly complete lack of slumber.

She was far too eager to sleep, too nervous. Her eyes were heavy, but they could never seem to close knowing exactly whose roof she was under.

She closed her eyes, blinking a moment too long, in attempt to force the thought from her mind.

"Where are we?" she finally asked, amazed by how calm my voice sounded despite the panic that filled her.

"Just outside of New Orleans," Jonathan voiced without giving Jace the chance to answer the question that had obviously been directed to him.

Over the past few days, Clary had made it abundantly clear that she wished to avoid any sort of contact or communication with Jonathan and it seemed that he had made it his mission to intercept her whenever possible.

"There are a few…. errands that I need to run in the Quarter," he explained as he took a step forward, causing Clary to take a step backward – forcing herself against Jace and as far away from Jonathan as possible, earning a wicked grin from in the process. "You're more than welcome to join me."

Jace's hand moved up Clary's arm slowly before hooking under her elbow and tugging her out of Jonathan's path. "Back off," he said, his voice a slow warning.

Jonathan's smirk twitched with amusement and he raised his hands before him in mock surrender before turning and making his way out to perform whatever insidious acts he had planned.

After a moment, Jace's grip relaxed and he turned to face Clary once more. "So," he smiled, leaning back against the counter and running his hand carelessly through his effortlessly styled locks, "how do you feel about witches?"

* * *

Clary had seen a lot of things in her life. In fact, she'd witnessed more in the past year than any normal girl her age. She'd watched an angel's memories in the basement of an incinerated building, seen a grown man – one she had known her entire life – transform into a giant wolf in the blink of an eye, and felt the sting of demon blood on her skin.

Even still, she felt highly unprepared for Louisiana.

Everything was just so _different_.

Having been raised in New York City, she was used to the crazy tourists and ungodly traffic, but New Orleans might as well have been another country.

Everything around her buzzed as if the city itself was bursting with energy. She could practically feel it seeping from the streets and up into her bones. Clary had never given much thought to the state - or the city - unless Mardi Gras, Popeye's, or Hurricane Katrina were being mentioned. But now, being completely immersed in the colors, sounds, and smells, she didn't know how she'd stayed away for so long.

Her red locks floated about her head as a large gust of wind tunneled through the narrow street, causing her to reach up and hold tight to the thin scarf around her neck. It wasn't anything close to the bitter, bone chilling cold that she'd grown up with in New York, but it was enough to send a chill throughout her small frame.

Jace gave a small chuckle and wrapped a arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his warmth, and resting his chin on the top of her head. "Don't worry, we're almost there." He said, his voice muffled in her hair, as his hands rubbed her arms and back in attempt to warm her.

With a soft sigh, she slid her hands under his coat and wound her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his chest. She could feel the heat from the rune just below his thin t-shirt. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"I told you, I've just gotta pick up something for Jon from this little coven, then we're free to explore."

Clary quirked a brow and looked up at him, "I thought Magnus said that warlock's didn't really run in packs."

He gave a short laugh, his golden eyes taking in their surroundings, "They don't... usually. That's part of the reason why we need to make an appearance." He raised one hand to stroke her hair, "We think that whatever it is that brought them all together, is just what we've been looking for."

The way that he casually used 'we' to join Jonathan and himself chilled me more than the cold weather ever could.

"What do you mean?" She asked, giving a small cough in hopes of masking the quiver in her voice.

He took in a deep breath – She could feel his chest rise and fall, his muscles tighten – before he reached back to unhook her hands from behind his back, but lacing his fingers with hers as if that would mask just how obvious the change was. "You'll see," he squeezed her hand lightly before leading her down the sidewalk once more, leaving no room for me to further the conversation.

As they walked further, the multicolored buildings and bars lined with neon lights were slowly replaced with rustic rot-iron gates and older style formations until they were replaced all together, statues of weeping angels and columned mausoleums taking their place. The chalky, white dirt floated up from the ground with every step that we took, coating their shoes in the process.

She'd never seen a cemetery so…. _elegant_.

Despite it's obvious age, the resting ground was in pristine condition. There was no sign of vandalism or graffiti that often disgraced the older cemeteries in New York. The monuments were clean and defined, like they'd been erected only days earlier; the above ground tombs, with their crosses and carved figures, stood proudly and untouched aside from the fresh flowers that rested in a few scattered vases.

It was beautiful, but in the way that a storm was beautiful: tantalizing and mesmerizing, all the while masking something devastating.

"What are we-" Clary began to ask, just as she heard the soft hum of voices.

Jace's back had straightened considerably, him becoming more alert with the new sound, and his eyes had taken on a more far-off expression.

"Jace?" she asked, tugging on his hand and coming to a halt when he didn't seem to hear her. Her pink lips pursed slightly when he gave her only the briefest acknowledgement.

"Stay here," He told her, his voice sounding distant and not his own before he untangled their fingers. He placed his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes – the black of his pupils expanding to cover the caramel of his eyes almost completely. "I mean it, Clarissa. I don't want you to follow me."

"Clarissa? Since when are do we go by full names?" She asked, hoping that her attempt at a joke masked the fear that his change in demeanor had brought to life inside of her.

Obviously, he was not amused.

"Stay," he ordered simply – harshly – before turning and moving in the direction of the voices, his hand curled around something tucked and hidden under his coat.

Too shocked to protest, Clary watched as Jace pulled a seraph blade from it's hiding spot and disappeared down a row of oven-vaulted graves. All she could do was stare in disbelief that Jace, her somewhat-rough-around-the-edges-but-always-gentle- with-her, Jace, had just ordered her to stay put like some kind of dog in training.

Jace was a lot of things. He was reckless, dauntless, and brave. He was stubborn and he was egotistical at times, but he was never _mean_. Not to her.

It took all of ten seconds for her to snap out of it and, filled with enough annoyance to mask her fear, stomp after him.

This wasn't right.

_He _wasn't right.

"Okay, I don't know if your possessed or something, but," she began, rounding the corner that Jace had disappeared around, only to have her words freeze in her throat at the sight before her.

Jace stood a mere twenty feet ahead of her. Only it wasn't him.

Where Jace practically shined the most vibrant of gold, the man before her wore a dark façade. He had Jace's features – those perfect cheekbones, strong lines that defined every part of him – but she barely recognized him now.

Not with one arm shoved into a woman's throat, holding her against a grave, and the seraph blade buried to its hilt in her gut.

He was asking the woman something in a low growl that she couldn't even recognize as coming from him. When she didn't answer, he twisted the blade inside her, bringing out a sharp scream as her bloodshot eyes locked with Clary's.

The next thing Clary new, she was falling, and the chalky taste of the dirt wafted into her lungs – choking her.

* * *

_The pounding of Clary's heart echoed throughout her entire body. She had never been so cold, soaked through to the bone, and her damp hair, crimson in the dull light of the candles that surrounded the lake, sticking to the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders. Everything hurt, she discovered quickly. It was a raw kind of pain, the kind that you feel in the marrow of your bones and in the back of your teeth. Something was stabbing into her skin, scraping away at her as if it were a stick carelessly tracing a pattern in the sand. Her eyes flew open as the black sludge of lake water forced its way out of her lungs and coated the cold, damp, ground until she could breathe again. _

_Rolling to her side, she found that her hands were bound behind her back and her legs felt much too heavy. A sort of stinging sensation coursed through her, as if she were rolling around in a batch of pushpins. The back of her hand burned as if a bee had stung it. She gasped as she attempted to push herself into a sitting position – legs sprawled awkwardly before her as if she were some sort of rag doll. Looking around, Clary found herself on the bank of Lake Lyn, surrounded by the sand – gray and full of glittering mica – and a mixture of candles and witchlight torches. A few feet from where she sat stood an altar of some kind with the Mortal Cup and Mortal Sword sitting atop the mound, runes traced into the sand around them._

_Then he was there. Valentine, his silvery blue eyes piercing into hers, spoke muffled words and crouched beside her. It was hard to believe that the man before was the same man in the picture that Hodge had given her. The boy in the picture, the one not much older than her at the time and that had gazed at her mother with such love, could not possibly be this man. This man was cold, he showed no sign of remorse or worry, and there was no trace of love or anything close to an emotion. All she saw within the depths of those ice filled eyes was her reflection amidst a cloud of indifference. _

_After that, everything passed in a whirl of clouds, like the black swirls of dark water when she had first become submerged in the lake. There were flashes of color, images and scenes dancing across her line of vision. Valentine's snide grin; Jace, his eyes seeming to be on fire moments before Valentine thrust the Mortal Sword through his heart; the angel as he rose from the lake and struck Valentine down – a vibrant bolt of Heavenly Fire aimed strait through his heart, the exact place that Valentine had forced the sword through Jace moments before - just before his voice entered her mind: __"Close your eyes, Clarissa Morgenstern"__._

Clary awoke with a start, her entire body shivering despite the fact that she seemed to be coated in a thin layer of sweat, the sheets clinging and tangled around her damp legs. As her eyes flew open, she sat bolt right, an exasperated gasp escaping her lungs as if she'd been holding her breath underwater. Her lungs ached with the release, her chest rising and falling with each rushed breath that she took.

_It was just a dream_, she told herself, closing her large green eyes tightly in attempts to force the images from her mind.

But it wasn't just a dream.

It was a nightmare, a memory; one that filled her every pore with the most crippling, unadulterated fear.

Months had passed since that night on the shores of Lake Lyn, the night that her father had shoved a blade through Jace's heart but had felt like it had penetrated her own. Jace had died. She had watched him stumble forward, seen the light fade from his golden eyes, and heard the last gasp of leave his lungs.

She had watched, helpless and frozen in place, as the one person she had ever loved – who she was finally able to love with no remorse – be slain by her own father.

A violent shiver coursed through her bones once more as she swallowed back the taste of bile that had begun to rise in her throat.

Jace wasn't dead.

The angel Raziel had granted Clary one wish, Jace's life, and he was fine.

Well, he was alive, at least.

When the door creaked open and Jace's golden hair peeked through the opening, she nearly jumped out of her skin, the images from the day before replacing her fear of the nightmare. At least then, she had known that she was sleeping – was reassured that she would wake up and that terrible scene would be in the past.

"Clary…" Jace's voice was soft, pained, and he moved in slow steps towards her to show that he meant her no harm, "Please don't be scared of me." He sounded so small, his voice shaking as he saw the terror in her eyes. "You know I'd never… you know I would never hurt you. I couldn't, Clary, You know that," his words continued to spill out, like she would bolt if he paused, "I love you. I'm sorry that you had to see that, but I can't tell you how bad those people are. The things Jon told me about them. What they would have done to you if I hadn't..." he closed his eyes tightly and his body shook slightly as he sat at the far edge of the bed, like he was as scared to be around her as she was of him in that moment.

She watched him intently, reading his every move the way that he had taught her to read a predator in order to predict their next move. Before, in the graveyard, he had been so hard and calculated, so unlike the man slumped before her. His hands clutched the bedding, his head tilted downward as he fought for control over his own words. When he finally met her eyes once more, there was no more darkness or anger. His harsh words and actions from the day before had vanished, leaving only the man that seemed just as distraught and disgusted over his actions as she was.

"I don't know what I was doing, Clary," he whispered, "I swear, I would never put you in danger like that. I don't know what came over me. That wasn't the plan. Killing-" he shook his head, swallowing, "It wasn't supposed to go that far. I was just going to snatch the gems, threaten them with some big talk to scare them off, and then we were going to go off and do our own thing like I promised." He whipped the back of his hand across his cheek before fisting his hand in his hair. "I don't know what happened."

Everything was too raw: the taste of the salty water, the feel of the damp sand beneath her and the binds that cut into her wrists; Jace's lifeless form lying just out of her reach. Clary gnawed on her lower lip before giving in and crawling across the space between them and pulling him into her arms.

Her touch loosened whatever hold he had on himself, making him collapse into her. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Shh…" She breathed, resting her chin on his forehead. Hearing the slightest creak from the door, she looked up only to find Jonathan's black eyes – so much like the eyes that had stared back at her in the cemetery – watching her, his expression perplexed. Clary's jaw set tightly, she secured her hold around Jace, her eyes never leaving her brother's cold stare. "I know."


	3. Saviors and Sinners

I do not own The Mortal Instruments or the Characters.  
They are all property of Cassandra Clare.  
All that I take credit for is the twist in the storyline and any original characters that may pop up.

* * *

**A/N: **Hello Everyone! So, guess what? Me, being the genius that I am, originally wrote this chapter in first person rather than third -.- SO, if you see any changes of narrative, please let me know so I can go back and fix it! I think that I got them all, but there is a possibility that there are a few "I" and "mines" swimming about. As always, thank you so much for reading and I hope that you enjoy :)

* * *

**_And this cup of yours tastes holy  
but a brush with the Devil can clear your mind  
and strengthen your spine_**

* * *

Clary sighed heavily, my breath blowing the hair out of her face only for it to settle in her line of vision once again. With a frustrated swipe of the hand, she tucked the wanton hair behind her ear once more. Her head was throbbing. The pounding at the base of her skull hadn't relented since she'd awoken after her and Jace' trip to the graveyard.

She couldn't get that woman's face out of her head. Her eyes had been so wide with fear as they had locked onto hers.

She had begged Clary to help her, and she couldn't even bring herself to move.

She'd just watched, completely dumbstruck by the fact that Jace could be holding a woman by her throat with a blade in her gut. He'd always been the one to protect others – the one to protect her. That seraph blade didn't belong in his hands against a warlock that wasn't fighting back.

She swallowed heard, willing back the bile that threatened. It made her sick to think of that afternoon, of the darkness that had claimed his golden eyes.

Never in my life, aside from first meeting him, had I been afraid of Jace.

_No, you're not afraid of Jace._ Clary told herself, her teeth grating over her lower lip anxiously, _Jonathan did something. That wasn't Jace. It was Jonathan._

"What did I do, now?"

She froze, the pen that had been in my grasp falling to the paper. She hadn't even realized that she had been thinking allowed or that, looking down at the sketchpad resting on my lap, she had been drawing those same haunted eyes that plagued her thoughts. Clary ripped the sheet away and crumpled it between her shaking hands. "What?" She asked dumbly, tucking the ball of paper into the front pocket of her sweatshirt.

"You said," Jonathan began, sauntering forward until he stood above her where she sat at the foot of the stairs, "and I quote, 'it was Jonathan'. Tell me, Clarissa, what unspeakable evil have I done now?"

Clary steeled herself the moment he moved within touching distance from her and instantly began to coil back. Her hands fumbled to close her sketchbook and brush her hair over my shoulder as I stood, taking a step up on the stairs – a step away from him – and rolled her eyes in his direction. "You're imagining things," She lied, hopefully smoothly, and took another step upward.

"Oh, I can assure you," he said, reaching out and gripping her elbow, "my imagination is running wild."

With a quick yank, he pulled her down the few steps that she'd managed to climb and pulled her against him, forcing the breath out of her lungs with the impact. She turned my face away from him as she attempted to unscrew her arm from his bruising grip. Her struggle only caused that sickening sneer to slither into spot on his face.

"Tsk, tsk," he said and gripped her tighter as if he were scolding a child, "There's no need to be so jumpy. You could get yourself hurt." He reached into the front pocket of her sweatshirt before releasing his hold on her and taking a few slow steps back, holing up the balled up piece of paper as he did so. "I just get rid of this for you. We wouldn't want Jace to find it, now would we?"

Her hand reached up to massage the sore spots that his fingers had left on her elbow, his fingertips already showing in small dark spots against her skin.

With her lack of response, his smirk grew even wider. With the slight nod of his head and tossing the crumpled sketch about like a ball, he disappeared through the front door, clapping Jace on the shoulder as they passed each other through the threshold.

"You're up early," Jace greeted when he spotted her, a brilliant grin painted across his features. He quickly closed the space between them and pulled her into him, his embrace all warmth and comfort.

"Couldn't sleep," She told him simply, slipping her arms around his middle between him and the leather jacket that he was wearing. "I figured I could get some sketching in so that I'd have something to show Simon when we get back."

His hand that rubbed her back slowly, causing her to look up just in time to see the slight shadow that crossed his expression. But, just as quickly as it had come, the darkness was gone once again and she was graced with a slightly dazed smile.

"That sounds great, babe." He reached for the sketchbook that she still clutched and flipped through the first few pages, his arrogant playfulness rearing up when he realized just how often he acted as her inspiration. "Eight? That's it?" He raised a brow at her and began counting through the sketches once more. "Really, I mean, there's six of containing various members of the Scooby gang alone," he said, referring to Izzy, Simon, Magnus, Alec, and all of the other faces back home that Clary craved to see, "There are three wedding gown sketches for your mother, one giant wolf, and at least a million runes on these two pages alone. But, there are only eight of me. Eight? I'm offended, Clary." He placed his hand over his heart, as if she had wounded him. "I thought you loved me? But, obviously not enough to completely obsess over my rugged good looks day in and day out."

Clarissa couldn't help but to laugh, her unease brought on by Jonathan's presence all but faded away. "I'm running out of paper!" She said in her own defense, flipping to the few empty pages left and fanning them dramatically.

"I'll buy you a new sketchbook," he said, as if the solution should have been obvious. When she ducked her head in attempts to hold in her laughter, he just shook his head and pursed his lips. "I guess it's true what they say: no one can love you as much as you love you."

"You're insatiable," She said, rolling her eyes playfully.

Jace slipped his hand around hers, their fingers lacing together, as he started to lead her up the stairs, "What a weird way to say irresistible. We really need to work on that stutter."

"I don't have a-" She began, only to have her words silenced by his lips against hers.

She laughed softly into the kiss, allowing him to reel her into him until their bodies were mere centimeters apart.

With so many moments that didn't fit, it was easy to become caught up in the ones that did.

"See? Irresistible," he purred as his lips moved from mine and traced a beeline across her cheek to her neck.

Clary bit her lip when he pulled back enough to look at her before pressing his forehead to hers, something in my heart tingling. He gingerly took her hand that was still in his and pressed it against his chest, just above his heart. He smiled down at her before his other hand slipped to cup the back of her neck.

"I do love you, you know." He shook his head, silencing her before she could respond, then continued, "I don't know what's going on," he said, his tone now just above a hushed whisper, "but I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Jonathan won't control me forever."

Clary flinched back in surprise, her eyes going wide as she stared up at him.

Of course, his only reply was a smirk.

"Jace?" She gaped up at him before turning her eyes to her hand on his chest. Much like the night that he had come to Luke's house, she focused on the feel of the slightly raised skin, only to find a major flaw in the design. She quickly undid the first few buttons of his shirt before pulling it aside, revealing the rune that –though still in place – appeared to be partially melted.

"Jon sent me out to find that group of warlocks again early this morning," he explained, his hand on her neck sliding down to her shoulder before capturing a rogue lock of hair and curling it around his fingers. "When I finally found them, they were waiting for me. The next thing I know, I was being yelled at in gibberish and they were tossing glitter at me. Only, it wasn't like the stuff Magnus is so fond of. When it landed on my skin, it burned." He lifted his arm and rolled up his sleeve, exposing what looked like a small grease burn. "One of the braver ones got close enough to grab me and tossed some right down my shirt. I don't know how, but I think that they guessed what was wrong with me…"

Jace's words trailed off and brought her attention back to his face, only to find a war going on within his golden eyes. "I never would have done that to that woman, Clary…" He said, his voice broken, "I wouldn't have put you in danger by taking you out there and I wouldn't have killed someone for no reason."

"I know," She said quickly, moving her hand to his cheek so that he focused on her once more. "You aren't like him. You're not a monster."

He shook his head, "Whatever they threw on the rune, it burned it. I don't know how, but it brought me back. I don't know for how long, but you need to find them, Clary. Or you need to get Magnus, or go to the Institute. You need to figure out how to fix me before he makes me hurt you."

She could feel the tears budding in her eyes and she shook my head, stretching up until she could wrap her arms around his neck. "You won't hurt me."

"I don't know how long this is going to last," he said, pressing his own hand to the marred rune, "Once it's healed, I can't control what I do. I'm a goddamn puppet, no matter how hard I fight it." He gripped my body to his, kissing my forehead before tilting her head upwards, "We'll find a way around this," he promised, "I'll find a way to come back to you."

Clary nodded so that he knew that she understood before claiming his lips with her own once more.

Then, she could feel his lips on her skin.

They were warm and soft, despite the hard line that they'd worn almost constantly for the past few weeks, and left a tingling sensation in their path as they made their way across her collarbone.

Then, her backside was pressed against her bedroom door and she was hyperaware of the pair of hands that held her in place. She could count his fingers that gripped the bare skin at the small of her back where her sweatshirt had risen slightly while his other hand slid slowly down her side before tugging her body into an arch against him.

He smelled like leather and mint and Jace, a mixture that had become her favorite scent in the entire world. His eyes were liquid onyx, his breathing slow and deep, while she was suspended between his hard frame and the door with her breathing anything but slow.

Taking her lack of pause as a sign, Jace quickly opened the door and carried her into the room, only to use her back to close it and leaving her against the door once more.

"Don't make me regret this," she pleaded, breathless, as she finally gave into her own desires and curled her fingers into his shirt to remove the miniscule bit of space that remained between them. Words couldn't describe how it felt to have him close again, without Jonathan's intruding gaze or a furrow etched into place on his brow – how much she'd simply missed him. She didn't think that she'd even noticed until that moment just how she had been craving his presence; that easy going, infuriatingly amazing air that used to cling to him.

"Never," he said in his usual cocky way that left no room for argument before his lips were upon hers once again.

Clary answered hungrily, her fingers curling in his hair and pulling him even closer. All of the messy and complicated emotions that she'd sifted through since they had met seemed to dissolve as she drowned herself in him.

She was pretty sure the only thing keeping her from exploding was his hands under her sweatshirt and the door that she was braced against.

She released his hair from her grip and trailed it down his broad chest before fumbling with the buttons of his shirt only to peel the material down his shoulders.

For once, Clarissa Fray wasn't thinking.

She didn't **want** to think.

If she did, she would only talk myself out of it, see what a huge mistake that she was making, and she didn't want to hear it. Not even from herself. She knew that she was setting myself up for more pain, but she couldn't resist him. All she could think was that – in this moment - Jace was here, the real Jace. _Her Jace_.

This whole ordeal could be their secret – one thing that belonged to them alone and that couldn't be tainted by whatever hold Jonathan had over him. Here, all of the rules and the red tape went up in smoke. Here, they were free to do whatever they wanted without fear, if only for just a moment, and her brother would never find out. No one would. It would just be theirs.

Jace met her halfway, shedding the shirt and tossing it aside as she traced the contours of his perfectly toned chest. They were beyond carried away, but she told herself that love was driving their actions now. She told herself that their love was enough.

She didn't allow herself to think about what would happen when he returned to the obedient shell that Jonathan's rune had reduced him to.

She didn't allow herself to think about how much or how little this might mean to him or how long we had together.

He lifted her then and she followed suit, wrapping her legs around his waist, as she saw his gaze flickered to the bed. Her heart was beating so rapidly that she was sure that he could feel it. Rational thought had abandoned her. Everything was happening way too fast.

"We shouldn't," she managed to say in a breathy whisper, his hands on her keeping her train of thought thoroughly muddled.

He gave a half grunt, his teeth grazing her earlobe and nearly sending her to pieces.

"Jace," Clary tried once more, running her hands up his chest, around the back of his neck, and curling her fingers into his hair. She tugged gently, pulling his devilish lips away from her skin so that they could both think more clearly. "What if Jonathan comes back?" She ran careful fingertips of her freehand over the exposed, and currently half-ruined, rune just over his heart. "What if this heals and-" she swallowed, unable to complete the sentence and state her real fears.

What if Jonathan somehow saw them through their bond?

What if the rune healed and Jace forgot everything?

What if he forgot her? Them? _This_.

The idea alone was enough to make her begin to untangle herself from him.

With a soft sigh, he pressed his forehead to hers, holding her in my place. After a moment of thought, he pressed a gently kiss to her lips and slid his hands down her legs, unwinding them from around his waist, and slowly lowered her so that she was standing once again. He fixed her sweater and captured her hand with his. "Come on," he smiled gently, tugging her out of the room.

She looked up at him with confusion but followed him. After leaning over the railing and listening for a sign of Jonathan's return, he lead her down the small hallway and carefully pushed open the door to Jonathan's room.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a whisper, despite them being alone.

Jace disappeared through the doorway and into the archaic madness that was Jonathan's bedroom. He returned a few moments later with a ripped sheet of paper that bore a quickly scrawled note. He held it out to her, using his index finger to point to the various bits of information.

"This," he said, pointing to the first name and address, "is the woman who tossed the magic acid at me." He slid his finger to the next name and address a few lines down, "this is the High Warlock of San Francisco. If all goes as planned, Jon needs to stop there in a few days before we head for Europe. He's tough, but he's got a soft spot for red-heads. If you can find him, he has a portal. You can use that to get to the Institute."

"What? Jace, no, I won't-"

"You will," He cut her off sternly, "You will go home, you will tell the Lightwoods what's going on, hell, tell the entire Clave, and you will let them form their army of misfit toys to come save me."

"I can't just leave you here," she protested, a new panic rising within her.

"You can, and that's exactly what you're going to do. I need you to be safe."

It was moments like these when she loved him most: when his eyes glittered with intensity and the hard mask that he wore for everyone else was completely forgotten and replaced by raw emotion.

The moments when she could convince herself that they would end up together, despite the world being against them.

Those were the moments that made it all worth it, even if they broke her heart at the same time.

"Thank you," he sighed in relief when she finally nodded in agreement. He carefully folded the sheet into a small square and tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans. "I love you, Clary. Just do this, and I'll come back to you."

And just like that, there was nothing else to say.


	4. See You Soon

I do not own The Mortal Instruments or the Characters.  
They are all property of Cassandra Clare.  
All that I take credit for is the twist in the storyline and any original characters that may pop up.

* * *

**_I made a brand of my own poison that I gave to you._**

**_It was the first of my experiments I'm going to put you through._**

**_Now it'll only make you dizzy, sick, and paralyzed._**

**_I think you'll live without the antidote; the ending's a surprise._**

* * *

There was a very distinct feeling that overtook Clary when the glimmer of hope faded from Jace's eyes and was replaced by the all too familiar look of the rune's hold over him. She wasn't sure what it was called exactly – something infinitely more crippling than pain and loss, but mixed with the fire of determination and rage, as well as a dash of fear to top it all off.

It was like a slap in the face followed by a tender caress; hateful words masked by claims of love and longing.

An impossible task accepted with the knowledge of the very small chance of defeating a greater evil.

"Clary?" He breathed, his eyes opening and closing with long blinks as if he were trying to clear his eyes of the fog that congested his mind. "What's going on?"

Pulling together the best mask that she could manage, Clary gave him a perplexed smile and tilted her head to the side as if she were studying his profile more intently. "You're being the David to my Michael Angelo," she said smoothly, tapping the eraser of the pencil that she held in her hand to the sketchpad that rested on her lap. "You're the one that was complaining about not being my main inspiration, Remember?"

She licked her lips and turned her eyes down to the sketch that she had started only moments before – a suggestion from Jace himself for a cover up of the lapse in time and in his memories – hoping that her concentrated stare and busy hands would help to see the fib that they had concocted.

"Huh," he said slowly, the sigh of a word barely audible despite there only being a few feet between them, "I guess I'm more tired than I thought I was." He shook his head and ran his hands through his perfectly messy hair, "I better go make sure Jon didn't need me for something, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded, giving him the same small, forced smile.

He hopped up quickly, bending down and placing a kiss on the top of her head, a grin taking his lips as he looked over her sketch before hurrying off to find Jonathan in whatever dark shadow he was currently lurking in.

With Jace's departure, Clary's small frame slumped back against the wall of her bedroom, a sudden feeling of exhaustion washing over her as her green eyes fixed on the door that he had just exited. Not an hour ago, she had been pressed against that door with Jace's solid body fit snuggly against hers, his lips on her neck, and his hands exploring her curves and tangling in her hair.

_"I'll come back to you,"_ he had promised over and over again as his warm breath washed over her flushed skin.

Even now, her cheeks were tinted a shade too pink and her lips remained swollen.

"Okay," she exhaled, running a hand over her face, cooling her feverish skin and blinking away the bit of moisture at her eyes before they could turn into tears. Using to toe of her boot to push her bedroom door closed, she flipped the pages in her sketchbook until she found the folded piece that was covered in Jace's neatly scrawled instructions and notes to help the Silent Brothers and the Clave solve the conundrum that was Jonathan's little field trip across the globe.

First on the list, understandably, was one of the witches that had 'voodooed the rune' - his word choice on the matter – and who was possibly the best chance of breaking the rune and Jonathan's hold over him for good.

_- Violet Devough: 1140 Royal St., New Orleans, LA 70116_

_Glittery acid dust that melts runes?_

_She's an experienced warlock, possibly dangerous._

_Currently lives with__ two other warlocks._

_All of their meetings take place in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1._

_- Breccan Ozias: 601 Dolores St., San Francisco, CA 94110_

_High Warlock of San Francisco, has the only known portal in Northern California._

_He is known to be very particular. If he refuses to help, find the nearest Institute/holy ground and a phone to call the Lightwoods/Magnus/your mom/Luke/Simon/Anyone that can get you out of there._

_Breccan has a reputation for having a soft spot for redheads. Flirt if you have to (but don't flirt too much. I do plan on coming back, and I'd hate to have to pick a fight with a warlock as old as him). _

_He's old and __very__ powerful. Jon won't even be able to think about you without his head exploding if you get into Breccan's good graces._

_- __When you get home, go straight to the Silent Brothers. I know that they creep you out, but they'll keep you safe and they're our best shot of find a way to fix this bonding situation between Jon and I._

_- The Institute is safe, but the chapel is safest. Jon has demon blood in his veins, so he won't be able to step foot on holy ground. If he sends me, Alec will stop me before I can do anything…_

_- Jon's destinations & what he's after:_

_New Orleans, Louisiana: _Reason Unknown. Group of Warlocks that meet in St. Louis Cemetery. (Violet Devough, Shaelene Woodrow, Samuel Marx, Cambridge Ford.)

_San Francisco, California: _Yadon's Rein Orchid.

_Santa Rosalia, Mexico: _Boleite.

_Iloilo, Philippians: _Pawikan Shell.

_Unspecified Location, Austraili: _Meeting with "Barbie" (?)

_St. Petersburg, Russia: _Meeting with Grigori Rasputin (Vampire) to trade for Emerald (?)

_Clary,_

_I wish that I could tell you more information that would actually help, but that's all that I know. Be careful, my brave, reckless girl. There is no point in me coming back if you aren't there to welcome me back to sanity._

_Remember, as long as I can dream, I will dream of you._

_I love you and I will see you again soon._

_- Jace._

I read over the list at least five times, making sure that it's contents were engraved into every fragment of my memory. My fingertips traced over the indents that the ink made in the thick paper and my lips formed his words silently.

_As long as I can dream, I will dream of you. _

His words echoed in my heart and strengthened my spine.

Folding the list down to a small square, I held it tightly in the palm of my hand and reached up so that the Morgenstern ring that hung around my neck pressed into the warm paper. "I love you," I breathed in a quiet whisper, bringing the ring up and pressing it to my lips, "I'll see you soon."

* * *

**A/N: **This was a SUPER short chapter. I'm sorry! But, I wanted to update before Christmas, as I'll be pretty busy for the next little bit. Good news, though, I'm working on completing the story as we speak so hopefully updates will become more regular. Fingers Crossed!

The addresses used in Jace's list are real addresses. Violet's is the site of a historical home called _Lalaurie Mansion_ in New Orleans that is rumored to be haunted and extremely creepy. Breccan's is the address to the _Golden Gate Lutheran Church_ that has been converted into a home. _St. Louis Cemetery No. 1_ is also a very beautiful, albeit ubber eerie, cemetery in New Orleans. If you're interested in seeing where exactly things will be going down, feel free to look up the sites J


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